AN: I thought the story was over, and I think it's over now….but who knows. Stacey

The diner was down the street from the trailer park in which I lived. My mom didn't know I was out, didn't know I was going to meet some strange guy for coffee, if she knew, she would kill me. It was only in the last year or two that she had let go enough to allow me to stay out past 10. I understand that she had a scare all of those years ago, but I'm 17 years old, I don't think I can be kidnapped anymore, I think now it would be considered person-napped. Don't even know if that is a word. But, this writer said he would be here, and several people posted comments on the site where I found this guy, and said that he was legit, and that he really wanted to hear our stories.

I don't know why in the world he would want my story. It wasn't like Dean saved me from anything great, wasn't like he saved me from some supernatural baddie…not like I was the pope or something, I was just some random kid that was poor and lived in a trailer park with his mom who tried desperately to make ends meet. What could be fascinating about my story?

The door to the diner opened and a nervous looking man entered. He searched the room and saw me and I stood and waved him over. I stuck my hand out and he shook it. "Mr. Surly?"

"Logan Davis?"

"Yes, sir. Nice to meet you." I indicated for him to sit across from me. The waitress, Mindy—we go to the local high school together, came over and took his order and left us alone.

"So," I began. "You're going across the country collecting stories?"

"Yeah." He said and thanked Mindy when she brought him his glass of water and took a drink. "I'm trying to write the most accurate picture of Dean Winchester as possible."

"But he saved the world. Freaking saved the world from the devil himself….and you want to know how he saved me? I mean, come on, that's insignificant. Plus it was like 7 years ago. Definitely not important anymore. I'd go interview the people he and his brother managed to get the demons out of right before the big show down. Not me. Sam wasn't even with him when he saved me."

"I just want to hear the story. People only know the big stuff he's done, but they don't realize that he'd been fighting evil for a long time before the big showdown. I want everyone to know who this man really is."

I shrugged. "I guess." I took a sip from my glass of pop and tried to get past the lump in my throat. This story was hard for me to tell. I didn't like to think about it, didn't like to talk about it. But when I heard about this guy, it was on the news website I frequent, and it said that he was looking for stories about the Great Dean Winchester and the Great Sam Winchester. I posted, said I had a story about Dean, never, in a million trillion years did I figured that he'd pick me to tell my story. Hell, I wonder how he even knew that I was telling the truth. It's not like he could go and ask Dean. He had to be on like, I don't know, 24 hour a day protection, and even if he could it isn't like Dean would remember.

The tape recorder switched on and I took a deep breath.

"Well, I was ten."

***

The cabin was in the middle of nowhere, in some dense forest, where the only light that could be seen was moonlight and even that was spotty. The cabin was old, it was falling apart, crumbling, and the inside was worse. Someone had once lived there, and it had been a long time ago, the furniture was old and decaying at what seemed like a rapid pace.

"I want my mommy." Little Logan Davis had yelled. That earned him a smack across the side of his face. One chubby cheek glowed red with the sting of the force, and his mouth fell open in a wordless startled scream.

"Keep your freaking mouth shut you little rodent." And all at once the air came back to him and he wailed. It was almost involuntary.

"I said keep your mouth shut boy!" He yelled and his eyes grew fierce and dark. He pulled at the belt around his waist. "You'll see what happens to little boys who can't keep their mouths shut…"

***

I watched Chuck's eyes widen, he visibly swallowed. "Did, he, uh, you—know?"

It took me a second or two to figure out what Mr. Surly was getting at, and when I understood that he thought the man had raped me in addition to beating and kidnapping me, I shook my head violently. "No. He just beat me with the belt." And suddenly that seemed like a much better alternative than when Mr. Surly had been suggesting. "That's what bad boys deserved. I have the scars, you need to see them?"

He waved his hands out in front of him. "No. No. Thanks. I don't need to see 'em."

"Well, the guy was going to kill me. I knew that then, and the older I get the more sure of it I am. All I know is that I was screaming. I guess that's how Dean found me. He must have heard my screams. He burst inside the house, he was wearing a leather jacket….

***

The man wearing the leather jacket grabbed a hold of the kidnapper and pulled him away from the child and punched him square in the jaw. He held the kidnapper by the collar and punched the man until he passed out.

Worried green eyes met the child's frighten blue ones and he held out a hand to the bleeding and crying child. "Come on, I'll take you back to your momma." The child scrambled and got into the corner and hid his face in the wall.

"No! No! Go away! Go away!" he screamed over and over again.

Dean knelt down to the child's level. "My name is Dean Winchester. And all I want to do is take you back to your mom. She's looking for you. She's sad and misses you, she asked me to come and find you." The boy quit screaming and peeked around his hands and looked at Dean's earnest face.

"My momma sent you?" he asked and sniffed, and snot dribbled down his face, meshed with tears, and Dean's face softened more.

"Yeah, your mom is worried about you and is looking for you. Will you come with me? Will you let me take you to your mom?"

"I don't know you. You're a stranger." Dean stifled a laugh.

"I told you my name is Dean Winchester. What is your name?"

"Logan Davis."

"Nice to meet you Logan. Now we aren't strangers. Will you let me take you to your mom now?"

***

"I didn't exactly trust him then, and he talked to me for a little bit, told me about the cool things he did when he was my age, talked to me about his brother Sammy."

"He talked to you about Sam?"

That seemed like an odd question to me. Sam helped him save the world from Lucifer, why wouldn't this guy expect him to talk about his brother? They were obviously close. "yeah, why?"

"His brother was at Stanford then and they weren't exactly on the best of speaking terms." I shrugged.

"Well, doesn't matter I guess. He talked about Sam, and how geeky he was. Told me a whole bunch of stuff about him that I don't remember anymore, but I remember it got me to trust him. He asked me stuff about me, just talked to me for the longest time, and then just as the kidnapper was going to wake up from Dean's knock out, he hit him again and knocked him out and some of the guy's teeth went flying. Scared me when the guy woke up some. Dean picked me up and took me to his car. He walked calmly. Wasn't scared of anything. He drove me back to the trailer. Back to my mom. My mom was so scared, she was crying. My mom never cries. She's had a rough life. My dad used to beat her before he left, and she never cried. But she was sobbing when Dean handed me back to my mom.

She tried to pay him, tried to give him what little money she had and he wouldn't take it. Said that her thanks was enough. She tried to feed him, anything. He wouldn't take it. He ruffled my hair, told me to take care of my mom, and he got back into that big black car and took off." Mr., Surly looked down at the tape recorder and then back to me. I shrugged.

"There really isn't much to say. He saved my life. He saved my mother's life. I don't know what she would have done if they had found me dead."

"What happened to the kidnapper do you know?" Mr. Surly asked. I smiled this was the best part.

"I took the police back to the cabin. He was dead. One shot to the head. I knew Dean did it. But I wasn't going to tell the police that. My mom didn't tell them either. She just said that some mysterious stranger saved me. That's what I know of Dean Winchester. It isn't much."

"It was a lot. Thank you." The curly haired reporter turned off the recorder and put it into his bag.

We stood, and he shook my hand and thanked me again for my time and my story. Just before he was at the door I called out. "All these stories, you really think they'll matter?"

Mr. Surly turned to me, hand on the door and said, "I know they will matter."

"Why you?"

"It's my job." And he left.